


Star Trek AOS Drabbles

by jazsy



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Smart is Sexy, Waffles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazsy/pseuds/jazsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random bits of amusing literature in the Star Trek genre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> These were my first fics in this fandom, which I guess cemented me as a Trekkie. I suppose the fact that I bought Star Trek waffles also comes in as supporting evidence.

"Good lord, Jim, gonna have some waffles with that syrup?"  
  
Jim simply grins and continues pouring syrup over his waffles, prepared just the way he likes them- drenched in butter.  
  
"Can never have too much, Bones. Also, you're one to talk, Mr. Entire-Tub-of-Whipped-Cream-on-My-Peach-Pie. You toooootally have a sweet tooth."  
  
Bones grumbles but doesn't deny it. Instead, he grabs a fork out of the drawer and leans around Jim to cover it in extra syrup. He slowly drags the fork in and then back out of his mouth. His lips are coated with syrup like it's some kind of - what's the shit girls wear? Lip gloss. Jim tries to come up with some witty retort but he is unable to think beyond  _Bones' perfect full lips covered in sticky sweet syrup_.  
  
He gives up and stands up, gently grabbing the fork out of Bones' mouth and replacing it with his tongue.   
  
When they have to part for air, Jim murmurs, "Can never have too much," before Bones licks his lips and Jim, once again, forgets about anything else.


	2. Napkins

Jim and McCoy stop for lunch somewhere in Nebraska; Jim says he needs a break from staring at the blank landscape. Bones would grumble that they didn't  _have_  to roadtrip from California to Iowa on Jim's new bike, but Jim would only counter that yes, they could have taken a shuttle or beamed to the Riverside shipyard. To which McCoy would answer that this is a no-win scenario if he ever saw one. At which Jim would laugh and kiss him hard while running his fingers teasingly over McCoy's back until McCoy can't take it anymore and has to get his shirt off to feel those calloused fingers against his bare skin. And from there, the rest of the clothing's just petty cash, more or less.  
  
They've had the argument several times.  
  
So here they are, at a diner built when the 1950's were back in style a few years back. It's a dive, but it has the best waffles McCoy's ever had. The waitress brings them the bill, pen and paper in keeping with the style of the diner. Jim stares at it for far too long, and McCoy's about to ask if there's something wrong, when Jim grabs a napkin and begins scribbling on it, letters, numbers, and symbols that McCoy recognizes as physics at its mind-numbingest (the kind Jim _likes_  and always serves to give McCoy a glimpse into the shocking intelligence that Jim keeps under wraps unless he's saving the world).  
  
"What the-" McCoy asks, but Jim holds up a hand and finishes writing.  
  
"The numbers on the bill, they-" he gestures wildly, as if he can't get the words out fast enough, "-like, sparked my brain, and, whatever, look, can we go? I want to run these numbers by Spock to see if they'll fix the inconsistencies in our shield generator technolgies..." he rambles off, muttering to himself as he stands and heads for the counter. McCoy rolls his eyes but smiles affectionately as he grabs the napkin and shoves it in his pocket as he follows.


	3. Reactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol the inconsistencies. and Um why Jim would have to take OChem I have no idea, but hey maybe he just liked how close 'organic' was to 'orgasmic'.

Jim kind of loves organic chemistry. It's difficult, yeah, but that's one of things he loves about Starfleet Academy- it's got enough challenges to keep him from feeling like his brain is going to explode from boredom. Which, he realizes now, was probably one of the major things driving his life, Before. Matilda learned to move objects with her mind; Jim Kirk got in bar fights and chased unattainable women.  
  
Anyway, it's hard but also kind of soothing- he can loose himself in drawing the structural formulae, the puzzle-like quality of the nomenclature, methodically figuring out reactions. He has just begun problem 4 of their weekly homework - reacting bromocyclohexane and a hydroxide anion- when Bones returns from a shift at the hospital.  
  
He gives Jim a wave and disappears into his bedroom, where presumably he is shucking his scrubs, and sure enough, he returns a moment later in regular jeans and Atlanta Braves t-shirt. He drops onto their couch and flips on the television, and Jim gets back to work. Jim has learned that Bones needs at least a half hour to de-stress after working at the hospital- needs time to think through his day, process and compartmentalize. Jim knows that if he doesn't get that time -or some alcohol- all that stress comes out later in a bitter, angry fight that has both of them saying things they don't mean.  
  
Like clockwork, Bones eventually gets up off the couch and gets some food, sitting down across from Jim at the table and peering at what he's working on.  
  
"We're gonna be synthesizing aspirin next week; I'll sell it to you half-price, Bones."  
  
"Because I would buy any drug  _you_  made."  
  
"You wound me, Bones, I'm trying to hook you up."  
  
"You realize  _I_  don't actually buy the medicines I use, right?"  
  
"Well then you can sell it to your patients for full price, earn some extra cash."  
  
"Why don't  _you_  just sell it to them and cut out the middleman?"  
  
Jim looks Bones up and down verrry slowly.  
  
"Maybe I just want to stay in your very good graces."  
  
Bones stares at him for a minute and Jim gets lost in the intensity of it, and is thrown when Bones snorts and rolls his eyes, getting up from his chair and walking back toward the replicator.  
  
Jim grins a little grin to himself. This is another challenge Starfleet has thrown at him. And Jim knows that when he gets the reaction he wants, it is going to be totally, totally worth it.


	4. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spock and Uhura bet on how many people/beings Jim sleeps with on any given mission.

"Eight."  
  
"The logical conservative estimate is five."  
  
They look to Dr. McCoy.  
  
"Seven."  
  
Uhura smacks her hand on the console in frustration. "I hate the Closest Without Going Over rule. He was practically getting a handjob when we beamed him up. It's clearly seven-but-not-for-lack-of-trying-for-more."  
  
"Sorry, Nyota, but according to the terms of this little gentleman's agreement you and Spock have, you're close, but no cigar."  
  
"Dr. McCoy, I fail to understand what bearing a rolled bundle of dried and fermented tobacco has on the situation. Nyota, I will remind you that we agreed, for simplicity, to count only the number of people with which Captain Kirk has had oral or penatrative intercourse."  
  
Uhura sighs. "Yes, I know. Don't be so smug." She quells his protest that  _Vulcans are not smug_  with a look. "Alright. You won this one. For the next standard week, I will take your side in any disagreement you have with Kirk. Are we finished?"  
  
"Yes, I believe we are."  
  
"It's been swell." Dr. McCoy gives a loose two-fingered salute. "Until the next mission, kids."


End file.
